


Kleptomania

by Thighkyuu



Category: Marvel, X-Men, xmen - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 09:34:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16851598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thighkyuu/pseuds/Thighkyuu
Summary: reader is short and Peter always carry her wherever she want to go and frequently change their track. And when she asks why does he keep carrying her around to places she doesn’t even know where is, he just says “I’m a kleptomaniac, I like to steal small stuff” - requested by fragcc on tumblr





	Kleptomania

    Peter loved a lot of things. Twinkies, running, stealing just about anything he could get his hands on. He stole candy bars, gum, shirts, books, hell, even things that were useless to him, like screwdrivers, but his favourite thing to steal was you.  He was head over heels for you, and he was glad you didn’t mind his shameless flirting, ridiculous pride, or general antics. Not that you knew that he was in love with you, but it didn’t really matter to him if you knew, he figured there would be a good time, a good place, to confess, and he’d make sure that you knew he would accept whatever decision you made regarding him. Until then, however, he had a plan to steal your heart. **  
**

You were on the shorter side, which only served to make his stealing enterprise all the more achievable. It meant that he was able to scoop you off the ground easier, cart you around easier, ruffle your hair easier. Well, that last one had nothing to do with his general love of stealing you off the ground, but your height did make it easier to do. The first time he’d ever thought about picking you up off the ground, he’d asked your permission. He wasn’t about to do anything you weren’t comfortable with, and if you didn’t want to be picked up, he’d find another way to win affection.You had said yes, but he’d still asked the next few times he went to pick you up anyway. You’d accepted each time he’d asked, eventually giving him an exasperated smile and telling him he didn’t have to ask every single time. Ever since then he’d carted you wherever you wanted, often taking different routes each time. Not to confuse you, but because he wanted to spend more time with you.

    Eventually, you’d asked why he kept doing it. He didn’t have to, you always reasoned, your eyes narrowed, and he often stole you away from conversations or classes besides. The first time you’d asked, he’d shrugged, but eventually he’d given a different answer.

“I’m a kleptomaniac,” he grinned softly, meeting your eyes, “and I like to steal small things.” He’d ruffled your hair as you grinned back, blushing slightly, before speeding away. It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he had any sort of feelings for you. When he’d looked into your eyes, he’d found it hard to resist the desire to kiss you then and there. He was pretty sure he’d been blushing just as you had. He almost hated that even seeing you smile could send butterflies through his stomach. Almost. He was the one that had fallen in love, after all.

    You were equally flustered by the whole thing. You weren’t sure why Peter could always elicit a response out of you, making your heartbeat speed up or a blush spread across your face, and you weren’t sure if his flirting even meant anything; he always insisted you two were the best of friends. Then again, with Peter, it was always a toss up. It was utterly infuriating to you that you couldn’t figure out if he really did have feelings for you or not, and sometimes you wondered if he even knew he was being confusing. Maybe he wasn’t being confusing at all, maybe it was just your own mind trying to trip you up. After all, how was he supposed to know you’d fallen for him? You huffed in frustration, trying to shove Peter out of your mind for the moment. There was no use trying to make sense of it all right then anyway.

    But, of course, the second you attempted to not think about Peter, he appeared before you, scooping you off the ground.

“Anywhere you need to go today?” He asked, grinning at you, and you shook your head.

“Well, no-”

“Excellent! Because I have somewhere I want to steal you away to.” You raised an eyebrow, searching his dark eyes for answers, but they revealed none. You held onto him tightly, burying your face into his shoulder as he lifted you off the ground, carrying you away. It was better not to look as Peter moved; the sheer speed made everything hard to process, and it all blended together into a blur of colours and shapes. It was enough to make most people sick.

    Within moments, Peter had stopped moving, and the harsh wind that came with his speed no longer tore at you with clawed fingers. You glanced up at Peter’s face and found his eyes on you, and something in them made you blush. You looked away, setting your feet on the ground as Peter slowly lowered your legs. Determined not to think about Peter for a moment, you looked around. Furrowing your brows, you turned to Peter.

“This… is just the door to your room, Pete.”

“I know,” he smiled brightly, “bear with me for a few more minutes.” You shrug, grinning back at him. It was truly difficult not to smile when Peter did. He scratched the back of his neck, shoving the door to his room open. “After you.” Neither of you speaks as you enter the room, and the silence stretches as you sit down on the bed.

“Y/N,” he breaks the silence, glancing over at you, “I-” but you were already ahead of him. You were sick of the confusion, and were determined to know where you stood.

“Wait,” you cut across him gently, “you talk so much about stealing me away, about stealing small things…” You swallowed, refusing to look directly at him, “but you’ve stolen something fairly large from me recently.” You saw his eyebrows raise from the corner of your eye, saw his eyes search the side of your face. He was bouncing one of his legs so quickly that you could feel the vibrations in the floor.

“And what would that be?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

“My heart.” Your voice was a mere whisper, a quiet plea. A hope. There was a silence then, and it seemed to stretch forever before Peter made a small sound, a soft chuckle.

“I can’t _believe_  you beat me to it! I’ve been trying to figure this out for  _months,_ ” his laughter picked up, and you stared at him with a raised brow, “and you just go and confess, just like that!  _Damn,”_  he looked at you, the laughter dancing in his eyes, and you could feel your face turning red.

“Well if you don’t-” you’re cut off from your awkward offer to leave by Peter’s lips meeting yours. It doesn’t last long, in fact you almost miss it, its so quick. “Oh,” was all you could manage for a moment before something dawned on you. “Wait,” you eyed Peter, smirking, “you were slow! For once in your life, someone beat you at something!” You jumped up, looking excitedly at Peter, who was slowly turning red.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, “but it worked out, right? I stole your heart anyway.” Your eyes stayed focused on his as you sat back down, leaning in to kiss him.

“Yeah,” your lips met, and your hands tangle into his hair as you mutter into the kiss, “it did.”


End file.
